


Test Subject

by unsettled



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Abduction, Drugged Sex, Endgame Tony/Peter, Kinktober, M/M, POV Tony Stark, Rape, Revenge, Sex Tapes, Underage Sex, Victim Blaming, quentin beck is the WORST
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:22:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27297841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unsettled/pseuds/unsettled
Summary: Tony knew Beck was unbalanced when he fired him. Knew he had the potential to be dangerous, but he wasn’t going to take Tony on and win.It’s really, really unfortunate Beck found out about Peter.
Relationships: Eventual Peter Parker/Tony Stark - Relationship, Quentin Beck/Peter Parker
Comments: 22
Kudos: 118
Collections: Unsettled's Kinktober 2020





	Test Subject

“Boss, you need to take a look at this.”

“Nope,” Tony says. “Not now, Friday.” Not that it really matters, since she blanks out his screen and puts up a video file instead. “Ugh, what's this? Someone send me a home movie?”

There nothing on screen except a bed, brightly lit. “Why did I need to see this?” Tony starts, and then— 

And then Peter stumbles into frame.

He not moving right, uncoordinated and clumsy, like his limbs are numb. He pauses, swaying, and seems to get a shove, taking another few fumbling steps forward and almost falling over, catching himself on the foot board of the bed.

“Shit,” Tony whispers. “When did we get this? Does anyone know Peter's missing? Is he?”

Friday says something, but Tony loses it completely because Quentin Beck steps up to Peter. Quentin fucking Beck, who he'd had to fire just a few months ago. The guy was brilliant, sure, but seriously unstable; the tantrum he'd thrown over Tony's naming of BARF had been insane. Tony'd had to get security to get him out of there, but the second they showed up, Beck had gone still, cold, completely in control of himself, and that was almost more worrying than the hysterics.

“You're going to regret this,” he'd said. “You have no idea what you're losing here. Who you're fucking with.”

Tony hadn't even replied, just rolled his eyes and told security to have Beck's things shipped to him.

“Hi Tony,” Beck says. Steps closer to Peter and grabs his hair, yanks his head up and around to the camera. “Say hi, Peter.”

Peter shakes his head, and Beck clicks his tongue. “You'd better start listening to me,” he says. “You're going to pay for it all in the end, you know. Now say hi to Tony, so he knows you can still talk.” Peter swallows.

“Hi Tony,” he says, his voice shaking.

“Good boy,” Beck says. “You know, I was actually a little surprised when I figured out who you were hiding. Somehow, I just didn't think you had it in you to be keeping a kid as a side piece. How old are you again, honey?” Peter shakes his head again and Beck sighs. “Fifteen's awfully young, Tony. How long have you been fucking him?”

“Where are they?” Tony says. “Friday, what have you found?” This is bad. This is really bad. “Is this live, or recorded?”

“When I saw him,” Beck says, as Friday lets Tony know that it's not live, and she has no clue where they are, “I thought, now there's the perfect way to pay back Tony Stark. I mean, look at him.” He pulls Peter further up, sliding his other hand under Peter's shirt. “He doesn't look fifteen, does he.”

He pulls Peter's shirt over his head and spreads his hand over Peter's stomach, bending to put his mouth on his neck. Peter yelps and flails around, kicking at Beck and getting nowhere. Whatever Beck's given him hasn't just messed with his balance and coordination, but somehow fucked up his strength as well. Oh, this is  _ bad. _

Beck pulls away from Peter's neck, this dark red mark left behind, and then he's got his hand down Peter's pants. “No,” Peter gasps, “no, don't, you— fuck you, stop it!”

“Going to be noisy?” Beck says, pulling Peter's pants down as Peter twists in his grip. “Going to be difficult? I hope so.”

“You bastard,” Tony whispers. “Friday, anything?”

Beck runs his hand down Peter's side, biting at his neck again. “No,” Peter tells him, “no, stop, no!” over and over again as Friday says the same.

Tony winces as Beck pushes Peter down, almost shoving him onto the floor. Peter lists over, unable to stay up on his own, and Beck's opening his pants— god, no,  _ no. _

Tony knows, he already knows it's too late, that what's happened has already happened, but he can't— he can't— “Let me see,” he tells Friday, pulling over her tracking. She's better, faster at this than he is, but he can't just sit here and watch this and do nothing.

The camera angle changes, completely, without Beck moving— shit, he's had time to edit this. The view is on Peter's face now, a little shakier, handheld maybe. Beck's hand is back in Peter's hair, his cock against Peter's cheek. “Don't you dare,” Peter whispers. “I'll—”

“You won't do anything,” Beck says. “If you try to bite me, I'll break your arms. And then I'll hold your mouth open and do it anyway. Your choice how you want to do it.”

No, Tony thinks, no, no— Peter doesn't give in easily, he's going to fight it and— 

“I hate you,” Peter says, and Beck lets go of his hair and backhands him. Peter falls over, trying and failing to catch himself before he hits the floor, and once he's down, Beck kicks him, hard.

“I know you think you do,” Beck says, “but you're going to hate me so much more by the time I'm done with you. Now let's try that again.”

Peter's crying when Beck hauls him back up, silently, tears running down his face as he shivers. Beck rubs the head of his cock against Peter's lips, and Peter closes his eyes.

Opens his mouth.

Tony— Tony doesn't want to watch this, doesn't want to hear the muffled, choked noises Peter is making, the wet sounds of Beck fucking his mouth. He doesn't want to look at Peter after this and have that image in his head, have Peter know he's seen it. But— but Peter can't escape this, and he's only suffering this because of Tony. Tony doesn't really have the choice to look away now, does he. “Friday,” he says. “Tell me we've got something, anything.”

They don't.

Beck's pushing Peter down on his cock, pulling him off, Peter too uncoordinated to be doing much of the work, but Beck doesn't seem to mind. “Maybe if you're good,” he tells Peter, “later I'll let you try this again, when you're a little more with it. Because this can't be what you give Tony.” He shoves his cock further in and Peter chokes, his hands coming up to push uselessly at Beck's legs. He doesn't give me anything, Tony wants to scream, you sick fuck, that's not— 

Peter's mouth is wet with spit when Beck pulls out, letting his cock smear more over Peter's cheek. Peter whimpers, softly, his eyes still closed. They fly open when Beck yanks him up, Peter scrambling to follow, and pushes him over onto the bed. Peter topples onto it, Beck shoving him around until he's on his stomach, hands limp above his head and legs spread. No, Tony thinks, no, please, don't let what he knows is coming happen, don't— 

Beck's stripping off his clothes, the camera angle changing back to the wide shot. “Can you hear him?” Beck says, and turns Peter's head so he's facing the camera. Peter's begging, quiet mumbled little nos and pleases. “This is Tony's fault,” he tells Peter. “If he hadn't treated me like he did—if he hadn't taken an interest in you—well, all our troubles can be laid at his feet. You think you're still going to run to him all grateful for being saved when I'm done with you? When I've finished doing what I have to, because of Tony?”

“Fuck you,” Peter says, low. “None of this is his fault.”

“You'll learn,” Beck says, and crawls onto the bed.

“No,” Peter says, louder, as Beck pushes his ass up, spreading it. “No, no, stop!” when Beck spits on his hole, Tony flinching away.

“Friday,” Tony says, desperately, “Friday—” but he doesn't even know what to ask for; they've found nothing. Not a single useful thing, and that's insane. There's no way Beck is that good.

Peter sobs when Beck pushes a finger in, trying to jerk away and just skidding forward a bit. Beck just jerks him back and shoves a second in with barely a pause, Peter yelping. “You're practically virgin tight,” Beck says. “Doe Tony like that about you? Is that why he wants you so young?”

“No,” Peter gasps, repeats, the sound of his voice spiraling higher and higher as Beck fingers him, as Beck kneels up and pushes into him, Peter's voice finally breaking into sobs.

All Tony can hope for is that whatever Beck's given Peter— he can't know that Peter's enhanced, that he's Spider-Man. Whatever dosage he used isn't going to last nearly as long as he thinks it will, so Tony hopes, god how he hopes, that it will wear off before this gets any worse. It's— it's too late for that, it's already worse and worse, but maybe soon Peter will be able to save himself. Maybe he won't hate Tony too much for making him do so.

Beck's so much bigger than Peter; when he spreads himself out on top like that, Tony can barely see Peter at all. He can hear him though, hear him crying out at every thrust, hear him begging for Beck to stop, to please stop, don't, please. Can see his hands, grasping desperately at the bed above his head, his feet kicking weakly against Beck's calves.

“Fuck, you're tight,” Beck groans. “What, has Tony been saving this for a special occasion? Too bad; he's never going to have it now.” He fucks Peter harder, deeper, and then pauses. Laughs.

He sits back a bit, hauling Peter's ass up harder. “Now what's this,” he says, mockingly. “You've been saying no and don't and how much you hate me, honey, but this,” and he reaches down, wrapping his hand around Peter's cock, “well, this says that's all been a lie. You don't get this hard from nothing.” He laughs again, louder, longer. “Peter Parker,” he says. “Are you getting off on this? What would Tony think?”

Peter fights him then, as best he can. Which isn't very; he jerks in Beck's hold, squirming and flailing and not making any headway. “I'm not!” he says, “It's not like that, I'm not— I'm  _ not, _ Mr. Stark!”

I know, Tony thinks, wishes he could tell Peter. I know you aren't, I know, this isn't your fault. God, please don't let Peter think it actually does mean he likes some part of it.

“Don't lie, Peter,” Beck says, stroking Peter's cock, Peter going limp in his hold, sobbing. “It's not even a good lie at this point. What is it, I wonder. Do you like hurting?” Peter shakes his head, keeps shaking and shaking it as Beck goes on. “Maybe you're just that much of a slut, or maybe you get off on being made to do things, on pretending it's rape, hmm?”

Beck glances toward the camera, a smirk growing on his face. “Or maybe,” he says, “maybe you have a little exhibitionist streak. Maybe you really like that you're being recorded, that someone is going to see this. Maybe,” he says, lowering his mouth to Peter's neck, speaking right into his ear almost so quietly Tony can't hear, “maybe you like the thought that it's Tony who's going to be watching. You like showing off for him, is that it?”

“No,” Peter whispers, but Beck clicks his tongue.

“Honey,” he says. “Do you think I didn't feel how your cock just jumped at that? You're a terrible liar.”

_ “No!”  _ Peter snaps. “It's not— I don't!”

“You do. You love that Tony will see this, that Tony's going to see you spread out like this, taking it from a complete stranger and still getting off on it. Does he like that you're that easy?”

“Shut up,” Peter hisses. “Shut up, shut up!”

“Oh, does he not know?” Beck says. “Does he think you're something sweet and innocent? Well isn't he in for a surprise.” He takes his hand away from Peter's cock, and it is hard, is wet at the tip, dripping. Fuck, poor Peter.

Beck angles Peter a little, shifting until there's a clear view of Peter's cock even when Peter's face is shoved down into the bed, gasping for breath. “He'd going to watch you come on my cock and you're going to love it, going to get off because you know he's watching. Go on, tell him,” and he starts fucking Peter again, slower, harder.

“That's not—” Peter starts, and Beck slaps his ass. Peter yelps, gasping when Beck does it again.

“Tell him,” Beck says.

Peter hesitates, not protesting but not saying anything. “Just say it, kid,” Tony whispers, staring at the screen. “It doesn't matter, it doesn't mean anything, just give him what he wants so he'll stop hurting you, please.”

“You know he'd like to hear it,” Beck says. “Give him what he wants, Peter.”

He doesn't, he _ doesn't  _ want to hear that.

“I—” Peter says. “I wish he was here.”

“To save you?”

“Yes,” Peter whispers. “Yes, and— and— instead of you, I'd—”

“You'd want, Peter?” Beck says, fucking into him. Peter jolts.

“I wish you were him,” and it's small, ashamed. Fuck, Tony hated Beck before this, but he hates him even more for making Peter say these things, twisting thing up in Peter's mind like this. “I wish he was fucking me instead.”

“I bet you do,” Beck says. “Who's the better lay, hmm?”

“I don't know,” Peter says. “I don't— I can't—” and Beck is never going to believe that's true.

Beck laughs. “I know you think he is,” he says. “I'm not going to get angry at you for that, not yet. I'm not trying to make this nice for you, Peter. But I am going to make you come.”

“Please, just— please don't,” Peter moans.

Tony agrees. “Friday,” he says again, like she wouldn't have said if anything changed, if there was anything new. “Please, give me some good news.”

Friday gives him silence. And then— “Based off previous biometric data,” she says, “Peter is telling the truth.”

“He's— what?” Tony's mind stumbles to a stop. She must be very, very confused. “We'll recalibrate that later,” he says. “Because there is no way Peter actually wants any of that.”

“I'm very sure,” Friday says, sounding offended. Onscreen, Beck is still pounding away at Peter, Peter sobbing into the sheets and jerking helplessly, his cock swinging with each thrust, still hard. “Peter is not lying when he says he wishes you were fucking him.”

Tony— 

“You're close, aren't you,” Beck says. “You want to come?”

Tony cannot deal with that right now. He can’t think about that right now.

Peter doesn't say anything, but after a long moment, his head dips, ever so slightly. “Yeah, I thought so,” Beck says. “Filthy slut. Why don't you beg Tony for it?”

“What?” Peter whispers.

“Go on,” Beck says. “He's watching, after all. I'm sure he'd give you permission if you begged pretty sough, and then you could pretend it's not so bad, coming on my cock.” He grinds into Peter, reaching forward and dragging his head up. “I want to hear it, Peter.”

Peter sobs, an awful broken sound. “Please,” he says, so soft. “Please, I— I want to come. Please, Tony, please let me, I just, let me for you? Please?”

“Peter,” Tony whispers, agonized. “Fuck, Peter, do anything you have to get though this, you— whatever you need, I'd tell you yes if I could, you have to know I would.”

“Please,” Peter begs, his spine curving, body stiffening as he pants out the word, over and over. “Tony— Tony, Tony, please—” He shudders, still for a long tense moment; “Tony,” he breathes, “oh god, Tony—” and Tony could have lived the rest of his life not knowing what it sounds like when Peter comes, saying his name. He might not want to never know it, but if it meant he didn't have to watch Beck fuck Peter into sobbing incoherence, he would have been glad for it all the same.

“You are disgusting,” Beck says. “Un fucking believable, coming like that just because Tony might watch this some time. You're not going to get away with pretending you don't like this anymore, honey.”

Peter's limp beneath him, not offering any resistance as Beck fucks into him fast and hard, groaning, his hands bruisingly tight on Peter's hips. He turns, looks at the camera; he's flushed, mouth gaping open as he takes these short, harsh breaths, close to coming. “I'm going to fucking ruin him,” Beck says. “Even if you get him back, he's never going to be the same, Tony. You're never going to get my mark off him, fuck, he's— he's not yours anymore, nothing is yours, I'm going— god, going to take everything, ruin  _ everything  _ you love—” He moans, bending lower over Peter, coming as he fucks into Peter a few more fast, short thrusts.

He's already ruined the one thing Tony wanted most to keep safe— no, no, he hasn't ruined Peter, nothing could ruin Peter, Peter is still perfect and amazing and worth the world. He'll find a way to get Beck's taint off him if it's the last thing he does.

Beck takes a long, shuddering breath and pulls out. “I'll give Tony this; he did find a nice piece of ass.” Peter moans, stuck like Beck left him, unmoving. Beck steps out of frame for a moment, the camera angle changing back to that handheld close up.

“Alright honey,” Beck says, camera on Peter's head. “Look at me.” Peter shakes his head, weakly. “Don't make me do this for you,” Beck says.

Peter turns his head, slowly, not looking at the camera. He looks terrible, red and blotchy, his eyes and mouth swollen, still crying. “Look,” Beck demands. “Look at the fucking camera,” and Peter raises his eyes. It's awful, so fucking awful; he's glassy eyed, unfocused.

“Tony saw all of that,” Beck tells him. “Every last bit, including the part where you liked it,” and Peter's face twists. “Maybe he doesn't think you need rescuing anymore. You'd better beg him to come save you.”

Peter shakes his head. “Don't,” he says. “Don't, it's got to be a trap, you don't— you don't need to help me, Mr. Stark.”

“Wrong,” Beck says. “He really does need to help you. And I know you want him to save you; just imagine, honey, how much fun I can have with you. I've got enough of this drug to keep just like this for weeks. For longer than that, even. If he doesn't come save you— well, I think eventually you'll stop wanting to leave.”

“No,” Peter whispers, “no, I— oh, god, please, please Mr. Stark—”

“Tony,” Beck snaps, and Peter falters. “Mr. Stark is awfully formal, isn't it,” Beck says. “Maybe he gets off on you calling him that, but I think we should stick with Tony. After all, you've already used it. I'm sure he'd like to hear it again.”

“Tony,” Peter says. “Please. Please find me, Tony, please, I— I don't think I can do this myself. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, please come for me. Please don't let him keep me, Tony.”

“Jesus,” Tony whispers, staring at Peter's face. “I'm trying, kid, I'm trying. I swear I am. I'm so sorry.”

“Very nice,” Beck says. “I'm sure that will dig the knife in a little deeper.” He reaches into frame and tilts Peter's face to the side, bring the camera closer to the hickeys he'd left earlier, still dark and vicious looking. “He won't find you, though. You won't, Tony. You're not going to be able to back track me, to hack me, to trace this video. You're not going to be able to find out where we are.”

He pans down Peter's body, showing off the marks he's left, the scratches and bites and bruises already turning dark, on Peter's back, his waist, his hips. “Don't you remember where I learned some of this from, Tony?” he says. “I know you've been trying this whole time, but you haven't had any luck yet, have you.” He lingers on Peter's ass, the red imprint of his hand still vivid.

“You'll never see me even if you're standing right next to me,” Beck says. “And you'll never find him until I get what I want.” He spreads Peter's ass open, showing the sore, abused redness of Peter's hole, the come leaking out of it and around it, like this is the end of any breeding porno. “Then again,” Beck says, “I might just keep him. He's fun; I can see why you picked him despite being a bit on the young side, even for me. You're a dirty man, Tony.”

“I'll find you,” Tony says, even though he's got nothing,  _ nothing  _ to go on. “I will fucking find you.”

The camera moves away from Peter entirely, though Tony can still hear him in the background, his quiet sobs and whimpers, gasping breaths.

“Now,” Beck says, the camera focusing on a case. Beck flips it open; inside are dozens of vials, with labels Tony can't read. “This was fun,” Beck continues. “And I really do have enough of that one to keep him loopy for months. But I've also got a whole bag of tricks here—you made most of them, you know, though not all—and I'm going to spend some time working my way through them. I know what they're supposed to do, mostly.” He turns the camera around, smirking into it. “But I don't know how they'll affect Peter. After all, he's not really human anymore, is he.”

Oh no, no no no— Beck knows. He knows what Peter is. He's— he's prepared. Fuck, Tony has to find him because Peter's not going to make it out of this on his own. Beck's made sure of that; Tony would bet the armor on it.

Beck picks one out, holding it up to the light. Grins.

“Let's find out what these do.”


End file.
